What Comes with Spring
by distracta
Summary: When Nikolas' parents kick him out for being gay, he ends up living in his car and working long hours at a restaurant. Then one day, he meets an aspiring cartoonist who gives him a second chance at life, love, and happiness. DenNor.


**A/N:** So I've been in the DenNor mood lately. Yup. Love it. I had this dumb little idea and decided it was worth writing down. I hope you think so too.

This is only the introduction, but new chapters should be published rather frequently.

* * *

The mid-January snow is falling lightly outside my window as I slip noiselessly out of bed. I tiptoe to the door of my bedroom and lean my ear against it. The TV in the living room is on, and I can hear my parents' laughter. I take a deep breath. What I am about to do requires a lot of strength.

I open the door and walk into the living room. My father looks up at me from the couch.  
"What is it, Son?" he asks me.  
"I, um... I need to talk about something with you. And Mom."  
My mother turns the TV off. She looks up at me suspiciously.  
:What did you do?"  
"N-nothing!" I stutter. I am starting to get scared. Because I did do something. At a party last week.  
I kissed a guy.  
Now, that would be perfectly acceptable for a seventeen-year-old girl. But I am a blonde, apathetic, seventeen-year-old guy. So, not okay. I'd been pretty unsure about my sexuality for the past few years, but that one kiss made me sure. I'm gay. And after a whole lot of thinking, I am okay with that. But I'm a little worried that my parents won't be.  
"I didn't do anything," I assure my mother. I just have something I want to talk about with you."  
"Alright," says my dad, leaning forward. "Go ahead."  
I sit down on the coffee table, take a deep breath, and explain what happened at the party.  
When I'm finished talking, I look up to gauge my parents' reaction. My father is the first to speak.  
"Boy, I can sure remember those days!" he says with a laugh. "High school parties were pretty crazy."  
"Honey, everyone gets curious sometime," my mother reassures me. "We aren't mad at you."  
"Oh, thank God." Then my father speaks.  
"It's just important to know that it isn't what's right for you."  
Uh oh.  
"What do you mean?" I ask worriedly.  
"Your father just wants you to know that actually having feelings about it, being gay, is just plain wrong, Honey."  
"Exactly. And we want what's best for our oldest son."  
Oh, no. They don't understand.  
"Mom, Dad, I didn't just kiss a guy. I think... I'm gay."  
My parents are silent.  
Then my father starts to laugh. But it doesn't sound right. It sounds murderous.  
"You're joking," he says forcefully. "You'd better be God-damned joking!"  
My mother looks away from me, won't meet my eyes.  
"Nikolas, please," she says carefully. "Don't upset your father."  
I don't know why I do it, but I do it. i stand up.  
"You guys can think whatever you want. I'm gay. G-A-Y. And that's not changing."  
My father seethes. Then, quietly, so it's even more scary, he says,  
"Get out."  
Shock. Disbelief. Realization.  
"What, why, no-"  
"I. Said. Get out."  
"Dear-"  
"Shut up."  
I gasp. He stands up and slaps me, hard. He looks at the hand he used to slap me with such disgust that I fear for a moment he chop it off. He storms into the kitchen and rifles through the cabinets.  
"Honey, what are you-"  
"I'm being a generous person." He comes up from behind the fridge holding two empty garbage bags. Oh, no. He's serious.  
"Pack. You have five minutes."  
I grab the bags and dash into my room. I wipe at my eyes unconsciously, realizing I've been crying for some time. Into the garbage bags go my clothes, the suit I wore to Grandma's funeral, all my black skinny jeans.. Then my iPod, my sketchbooks, my new camera, and my photos of me, Mom, Dad, and Emil, who happens to be standing in my doorway, rubbing his eyes.  
"Nik?" he asks, still half asleep. "What the-"  
I shush him quickly. Then i whisper, "It's Dad. He's... He's kicking me out."  
"What?!" Emil yells. "How could-"  
"NIKOLAS!" I hear from the living room. "TWO MINUTES!"  
I quickly stuff more random belongings into the garbage bags. My wallet's in my pocket, my backpack on my back. I carry the garbage bags into the living room in a daze, with Emil following behind me.  
"Emil, go back to bed," my mother tries.  
"What's going on?" he asks angrily.  
"Your brother has made some terrible choices," my dad says, glaring at me all the while.  
"I didn't CHOOSE to be gay, Dad!"  
"Don't you ever call me that again!" he backfires. "You're not my son."  
"Mom! What the hell is going on?"  
"Emil, Honey, go back to bed."  
"Nikolas," Dad says my name like a curse. "You are forbidden to enter this house again. You will NOT speak to Emil at school. I don't need you influencing him."  
"What about my car?!"  
"Keep your car. We're shutting off your phone and your bank account."  
"We are?" Mom asks worriedly.  
"Hush, Dear," he says, his fiery glare locked on me.  
"Now get. Out."  
I stand there for a moment, feeling as if this whole night was unreal. Then I run. I slam the back door behind me, grabbing my keys and getting in my car. The wheels screech as I speed out of the driveway, out of the neighborhood. I just drive and drive and drive until I get to a safe parking lot. Then i turn off the car, put my head on the steering wheel, and cry.


End file.
